Random Bits 11
by Nashiil
Summary: Final Chapter up. Auron has always been curiously good at holding his alcohol and now he is going to put his ability to good use.
1. Chapter 1

-1Title:  Random Bits 11 - Chapter 1

Setting: A late night blitzball game leaves Auron and his fellow Y's mighty thirsty.

**Luca - **Bar - After a long evening spent cheering and dodging flying concession stand snacks, the Y's head for Auron's favorite tavern.

Auron faded through Kimahri, who had come to a sudden stop thanks to the low door frame of Winkie Winkle's tavern. Wakka and Tidus followed Auron through a short rain of plaster and towards a table leaving the Ronso to stagger along behind. Wakka snickered as a chair collapsed in a symphony of pops and cracks under Kimahri's weight. Auron chose to ignore what happened next as Wakka gasped in horror, both of them forgetting that Tidus was a minor in a bar in a town with no legal drinking age. The Ronso yanked the chairs out from under the two patrons at the table behind him, drawing Auron and Wakka's attention long enough for Tidus to make a break for the bar.

Mr. Winkle was the typical barman, meaning that he was over weight, poorly dressed (even though his tavern pulled in a small fortune on a daily basis), could polish a glass like nobody's business, constantly sweated, and exuded a faint smell of ham when nervous. And like all barmen he kept a heavy club under the bar for emergencies, could stop a brawl with a few well hurled glasses, had a sixth sense for spotting customers who were 'trouble', and had an amazing memory for recalling who owed what for damages. At the moment he was holding a small notepad where 56gil was already scribbled down for damages to the door frame and one chair. His sweat dotted brows wrinkled slightly in disappointment as the two chairs the Ronso was sitting on held. He absentmindedly slapped down the bar's universal drinks menu (you know, the one that is stained, wrinkled, and so worn it was often used as a napkin) down on the bar.

Tidus stared at the menu in wide-eyed wonder. His eyes were so wide in fact that they were clinging to his eyelashes, desperately trying to stay in his skull. If they had relinquished their tenuous hold and rolled across the menu, it would have helped him read the list of cocktail drinks faster. The boy eagerly read over the list, which contained mysterious and tempting names like The Wrath of Sin, Dark Seduction, The Aftermath, Fiery Flatulence, Yunalesca's Forbidden Delight, Hairy Backside, Secret of Bevelle, Demon's Heartburn, Pink Rapture, Tourist's Suicide, Cosmic Brain Death, and The Burning Bladder.

"Okay, I'll take three beers and…" and the next thing he knew a waitress had sent him back to his table with a cold glass of milk and a pat on the head.

"Don't make that face," Wakka said, cheerfully slapping the crestfallen youth on the back. "Maybe in a few more years…" The former Auroch's captain was cut short by the sardonic glare Tidus shot him, pointedly alternating his gaze between Wakka and a ten year old girl who happened to be on her second mug. The Islander stammered as he mentally dug out the little used chest of Reasons Why You Shouldn't Drink When Everyone Else Is. He shoved the lid back and began hurling responses left and right.

So far all the reasons were lame and only some of them were mildly intelligent even by college age brother standards.

Growing weary of Wakka's pathetic attempts at a reasonable response, Kimahri stepped into the conversation with all the eloquence Ronso's could muster.

"Milk good. Make strong like mountain." he rumbled, thumping his chest with a meaty fist. In this game of Dealing With Teenagers, Kimahri chose to counter Tidus' Moody Miffed Teen Card with the very tricky Teen Ego Card. Cards on the table he waited to see if the boy would accept the load of Shoopuff Droppings.

The Ego card is difficult to play because it is different for every person, but it's every male's dream to be big and strong. This is a fact that can be seen as early as age three, all the boys standing in the play yard with their arms curled for inspection. Each baby fat bicep is thoroughly inspected by the time proven test of squeezing, which also works for vegetables. The boy with the fattest arms most certainly has the biggest muscles and also can run the fastest, eat the most, pee the farthest, and pick up the smallest girl for three seconds.

Up until a little common sense settles in most boys will to anything that other boys say will make them stronger. Some of these strengthening techniques are eating various insects, licking strange amphibians at midnight while standing naked under the porch light on a Sunday, cutting off one pig-tail from five little girls during class, and rubbing themselves with homemade tonics made from the various ointments and mysterious unmarked tubes and bottled liquids in Grandpa's medicine cabinet. Since Tidus had a pretty big Ego the card worked in Kimahri's favor.

Tidus considered the glass of milk, his Ego prodding him not to miss the possibility that this might actually be true. Big cats drank milk and they were some of the most powerful predators. Kimahri still drank milk and he was _huge._ It had to be true. He slowly pulled the glass of milk towards him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tidus slammed the glass down on the table, rattling the six other empty glasses around it. He had a small crowd of onlookers who all wanted to see how much milk the boy could drink. Sure, they had seen other patrons in drinking contests drink themselves into inebriated oblivion, but a drinking contest with a non alcoholic beverage was unusual. They weren't just there to see how much lactose one stomach could tolerate, but to see just how big a milk mustache could grow. Around glass four Tidus had surpassed mustache and was working on a full beard.

While Tidus was entertaining his fans, Wakka was keeping an eye on the opposite end of Winkle's, where two drinkers were locked in a contest, glaring at each other tensely over a mound of shot glasses. The Blitzball captain casually rose and made his way to the tap, where Auron (playing on his Legendary status) was filling his jug. Winkle had unhappily shuffled to the store room for a second barrel, making sure to mark up the price of beer for Mr. Legendary. Wakka nudged Auron and waggled his eyebrows at the contest.

"No." Auron said to Wakka's pleading eyes. "I refuse to use my status for personal gain." Wakka gave him a cynical look and glance at the beer flowing from the tap.

"I don't see anyone else drawing their own beer."

"Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

I tried putting this up on chapter 1, but for some reason it didn't show up. It was brought to my attention that I have been writing Tidus as a bit on the stupid side. Its true, but was unintentional. I have an explanation posted on my Profile if you care to read it.

* * *

Title: Random Bits 11 - Chapter 2

Setting: A late night blitzball game leaves Auron and his fellow Y's mighty thirsty.

**Luca - **Bar - After a long evening spent cheering and dodging flying concession stand snacks, the Y's head for Auron's favorite tavern.

Tidus watched Wakka and Auron's whispered conversation from the bottom of his glass curiously. He wasn't surprised when Kimahri stood and padded off to join the other two as they began moving tables around. That seemed to be the cue for the rest of the crowd. Being the typical bar crowd they migrated around the tavern seeking the highest concentration of activity, be it fight, argument, jokes, or contests. Tidus quickly found himself surrounded by a widening pool of abandoned chairs and more than a dozen empty milk glasses. He sat alone for a few moments while his milk beard dribbled into his lap.

There are many kinds of drugs out there. One of the most used is caffeine, but Tidus' drug of choice was attention, which he had suddenly run out of. He experienced a brief moment of panic and quickly scanned the room, homing in on the crowd like a pot head following a whiff off a joint. Surely Auron wouldn't mind sharing a little of the attention, seeing as how he didn't really like it anyway.

Tidus cautiously pushed back his chair and slowly stood, pausing as a gallon and half of milk sloshed dangerously at the movement. He took a few tentative steps just to make sure the milk wasn't going to make a sudden and explosive reappearance, then headed off to join his friends.

Auron seated himself at the small table, Wakka and Kimahri taking up position to either side of his chair. Their main purpose was to loom and intimidate the competition. The Legendary Guardian eyed his first opponent, who was riding high on a wave of confidence that often accompanies a few beers, with mild disinterest and downed the first shot. They young man countered by making a big show of draining his glass, then slamming it down theatrically on the tabletop.

Around the twelfth glass Auron's competitor was well into grunting and posturing for his fans. Through it all Auron maintained a casual pace and an unnervingly blank expression. His eye remained unfocused and fixed to a spot on the table that was about shot glass height. He did glance up once, his attention drawn by a clinking sound, to see his rival demolish a small tower of glasses as he collapsed forward. Small green bubbles began bursting about his head as he slid to the floor in a sodden heap. The odd thing about it was that it was a different contestant than from when the contest started.

"That's just creepy." Tidus muttered to his companions as the older Guardian steadily drank his way to another victory.

"Like machina."

"He's totally focused, ya?" Wakka replied, Auron going through shot glasses the same way a tourist with Montezuma's Revenge goes through toilet tissue.

"Hey Auron," Wakka cut in as Auron reached for the next glass, but met empty air. "they ran out of shot glasses." The Unsent warrior stared at the faint ring of condensation on the table where the last glass had been. The entire tavern held its breath as he addressed the following to Winkle, his gaze never leaving the pale face of his nervous competitor,

"You have mugs don't you?"

If such a thing exists that is quieter than total or dead silence, then it would not have just fallen on the tavern, but crashed, smacked, and wallowed. As it was everyone could clearly hear a small colony of hermit crabs marching through the vegetation two miles away.

"Bring big glasses!" Kimahri bellowed, sending the tavern owner scurrying to the kitchen, the faint smell of ham lingering in the air in embarrassment behind him. After a moment the smell followed its owner.

As the first mugs were set before the contestants, Tidus felt that the contest was lacking something. Scanning the tavern he spotted the karaoke stage. Moments later he was leading the spectators in the traditional tavern song of encouragement 'Chug! Chug! Chug!'. As the round progressed it was changed to 'Puke! Puke! Puke!' since draining a whole mug of beer all at once was proving too much for some competitors. Alas, watching two men alternate between quaffing beer and vomiting is only entertaining for so long, and Tidus was holding a microphone.

Auron was jolted from his deep philosophical thoughts as the little Sin Spawn's voice ripped through the smoky air.

"Tarzan! Tarzan! Swinging on a rubber band…", he paused to let the crowd echo. Auron froze with the mug hovering halfway to his lips, those still paying attention to the contest eying him accusingly.

"I'm just the babysitter." he replied coldly, "he's Jecht's kid." There was a chorus of 'oh's' which implied that that explained everything.

At the microphone Tidus stammered, " Uh, yeah…I, uh, got too close…"

"He was born in the toxin." Auron finished before Tidus could. As one the crowd successfully pulled off Spira's first mass nonchalant step backwards. The Legendary Guardian turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Winkle studied the newcomers, while polishing all the newly washed shot glasses. The older man missing one eye was unlike any drinker he had ever seen, and Winkle had seen just about every type of drinker out there. This guy guzzled beer like an SUV and was showing no signs of becoming remotely close to alcoholic chemo stasis. (Chemo stasis? When your blood stream has absorbed all the chemicals from eating a certain food, like chocolate, and can't absorb any more. Hey, you learned something! Next time you drink too much soda you can say you're chemo static. )

Competitor after competitor fell to the quaffing juggernaut. Friends or family were left to pay the gil they had bet and drag the loser outside . There was already quite an impressive heap of them groaning in the gutter, sleeping in the peaceful embrace of inebriated bliss, or bouncing gently off the alley walls as they stumbled towards home.

Up on stage Tidus kept up a running commentary and entertained the observers (I.e., designated drivers) with weird drinking songs. He had attracted quite a crowd as he pranced and sang, that was until he did his famous Jecht Shot, and puked in mid turn. A puking bar-goer usually earns a raucous laugh from other patrons. What Tidus got was more of a unified scream of surprised disgust as over a gallon of 98.6 degree milk made a 360 degree trip around the tavern.

From a distance, namely across the street, the expanding ring of milk was comparable to the explosion of the Death Star. Tidus mentally added 'on a full stomach' to the list of ways the Jecht Shot was not meant to be done. That brought the list to a grand total of three, 1) naked, 2) on dry land, and 3)on a full stomach.

Twenty minutes later, Winkle was watching the greatest drinker (since Jecht) Spira had ever seen leave the tavern with a small fortune in gil, and a trophy drawn on a paper napkin. One of the few customers still sober had felt that Auron was owed something for his incredible alcoholic feat. The broken horned Ronso and the red haired man that had come in with him, followed after collecting a few more debts (accomplished by holding the victim upside down by the ankles and shaking vigorously) and then their blond companion (accomplished by threatening a public pantsing).

Once outside, Auron headed off in a random direction at a brisk walk, which was as close to running as he ever came.

"Wow!" Tidus laughed, jogging along after him. "That was incredible. I've never seen someone drink so much and still be able to walk and think at the same time!"

"Well," Wakka interjected with an amused grin, "Some people build up a really high tolerance. Almost _un_naturally high, right Auron?"

The Legendary Guardian glanced around as they came to the main square, then headed off again quickly. "High tolerance. Yeah." he muttered distractedly, increasing his pace. His companions hurried along behind as they navigated the sleeping city, their pace becoming almost frantic.

"How long did it take you to work up that much tolerance?" Tidus inquired, almost running to keep up.

Auron stopped suddenly and turned, causing a three person pile up behind him. "Unsent are immune to the affects of alcohol, so I can drink it like water." That said he slewed around and resumed his urgent wandering. "You _cheated _?" Tidus exclaimed, almost whispering the most unholy word known to the sports world.

"Its not cheating." Wakka said, "He can't help that he's dead, ya? Just like you can't help that you're related to Sin."

"Auron compete. Auron drink. Auron win." Kimahri stated with finality. There was no arguing after that.

"Hey! Auron wait up" Wakka called, realizing that Auron had left them discussing the finer points of sportsmanship and was well down the street.

"What's with you?"

Auron paused and glared at him as if the answer was obvious. "I just out drank an entire bar full of people. I really need to find a bathroom. Since nothing's open, that wall over there is looking pretty good."

Tidus looked at his older companion. "I bet I can pee higher than you."

Auron looked at the wall, calculating. "20 gil says you can't."

End

* * *

I know the ending kinda sucks. Sorry.

For all of you kids out there who are reading a T rated fic and aren't T rated fic age (shame on you!) I don't advocate the consumption of alcohol or any other illegal substance. What's the point of killing brain cells and your liver so you can stumble around vomiting on yourself and not remember what you did the previous night for the amusement of others? It just doesn't sound fun to me. I hope no one is offended by this, but its true.


End file.
